Never Return
by Sri Starlz
Summary: Oneshot. My entry for Leah-Sora Parker's Oddest Couples Contest :) Warnings: OOC! And it's really LONG. Fiske flashes back one fine day, when reading a novel and drinking a glass of apple juice. K plus because it's a bit depressing but okay for tweens :)


**A/N: Hi there. :) I'll probably be spending a lot of time on FF for the next month, 'cause it's FINALLY summer for us :D And it just became a lot easier for me to access, I switched networks. I'm going somewhere in August, so I don't really know, but I'm dedicating myself to FF throughout July :)**

**Moving on! This is an entry for Leah-Sora Parker's Oddest Couples contest. I know the judging already began... but it's open until July 30, so here goes. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own ze 39 Clues. **

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Never Return

"Ian and I are going to the library. Dan's somewhere with Natalie, and everyone else is around the mansion. Bye!"

He waved and looked fondly after the disappearing couple. Amy and Ian were such opposites- nobody had expected them to admit to liking each other, much less date... But in this world, as Fiske knew, sometimes that was how things worked.

Dan and Natalie, for another example. They were even more against each other than their older siblings. But somehow, they'd compromised and taken to hanging out at the mall-apparently half the time, Natalie dragged Dan through various clothing stores, shopping for both of them. (Fiske could tell that Dan's taste in clothing would have improved greatly by the end of the reunion.) The rest of the time, Dan took her to the arcade and they played videogames, Natalie beating him occasionally, much to everyone's surprise and Dan's dismay.

_The dear children. They deserve to enjoy what childhood they have left, _Fiske thought, settling down to read on the sofa with a glass of apple juice. (Someone had to drink the apple juice, even if nobody liked it, or the liter Nellie had bought in preparation for the reunion would go to waste.)

The book was Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, one of Fiske's favorite classics. It was originally written in Russian, but Fiske had had some top Madrigal and Lucian translators translate it into English for him. He, unfortunately, had not learned much Russian yet.

Russia...

The book fell from his hands suddenly. Shaking, he set down the glass of apple juice on the table, in case he should drop it. He was surprised at himself for not remembering _her_ earlier, when he'd asked those agents to translate it from Russian.

He had not thought of her for a long time. He'd met her long, long ago, when they'd both been not much older than Amy and Ian were now. He'd been twenty years old, and she had been just seventeen.

It was a chance meeting. She was a Lucian, he a Madrigal- one of those whom, back then, everyone feared. When one of the four well-known branches interacted with Madrigals, it was never friendly.

He'd been in St. Petersburg, Russia, with Grace. He wasn't on a Madrigal mission as his sister was, but just there to watch out for her. He remembered stepping out of the hotel they were staying in to just take a walk- Grace had been out all day and he'd stayed inside, not knowing what to do.

He strolled along the quaint streets, seeming just another American, but keeping a sharp lookout for Lucians. Suddenly, the sound of quiet sobbing reached his ears. He found an alley between the two shops closest to him and peered in.

There sat a girl with short blond hair, cut neatly off at her shoulders. He could not see her face, because she'd buried it in her hands. Her body shook with sobs, but it seemed like she was trying to hold them in.

He walked up to her and tentatively placed his hand on her shoulder. She jumped, whipping her head up and staring at him so suspiciously he couldn't believe she'd been crying a moment earlier. "Who are you?"

This close, he had a good view of her face. Her eyes were grayish, bordered with long eyelashes. Her nose was pointed down a bit, and her mouth was flat and showed no hints of a smile. But she was pretty.

Her voice was sharp and had an obvious Russian accent. He involuntarily took a step back at the sight of her blazing eyes and wished he hadn't been so hasty in deciding to help. Who knew but that this girl was a Lucian. "I- I'm Fiske."

He facepalmed mentally. _Way to go, Fiske. Just give away your real name to any random crying girl who asks. _

"Fisk? Unusual name." Her accent pronounced his name without the e, popping the k. Her voice betrayed a bit of mirth, but her eyes were still doing that cold stare.

"Um... Yes, very unusual." He didn't know what to say.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice turned sharp again.

"I- uh, I heard you- crying, so I just c-came to see what was wrong."

"Crying? Pah. My eyes were just watery, and my throat hoarse, so I was coughing. _Crying_." She said the last word disgustedly.

Fiske was sure she was a Lucian. She'd just lied expertly, very convincingly- the only reason he knew she was lying was because he'd definitely seen her crying. Not coughing. Crying.

But he didn't exactly want to press the point. If she didn't want help and she was a Lucian, the longer he stayed here, the more dangerous for him. So he stuck his hands into the pockets of his coat and said, "Oh, okay. I- I'll just be going, then."

He turned around and was about to leave the alley when she spoke. "Fisk. Wait."

He looked around slowly. She got up and walked to him. She came up to about his shoulder. She was well-built, not heavily muscled, but wiry and strong. "You do not seem convinced. I really was not crying."

He stared at her. "Do you expect me to believe that? I clearly saw you and heard you, head down, sobbing. It's okay to admit you were crying, you know. It's not like I'd make fun of you or tell anyone."

"I'll make sure you don't." She flicked her hand and swiped at his exposed wrist.

If he'd been just a normal person, he would have been poisoned and left to die, one of the first victims of her famous poison fingernails. However, even if he wasn't an active Madrigal he'd taken Madrigal training, and his reflexes kicked in and pulled his hand away just at the right moment. He dealt her a blow to her arm, just below the shoulder, and ran away as she rose up again.

He ran to the corner of the street and saw that she was following at a fast walk. He realized he'd be attracting attention by running for no apparent reason and slowed down as well, heading toward his hotel by instinct. Then he realized if he went in, she'd know where he was staying, so he took a path leading away from it.

He checked over his shoulder. She was getting closer. He sped up.

Then he realized the path he'd taken was a dead end. A residential area, too, so he couldn't sneak in between shops. He saw an alleyway at the far right and hurried in, hoping she hadn't seen him.

Before he could hide, she rounded the corner and saw him in the alley. Moving fast, she cornered him. They were both breathing hard.

"I see you are a Cahill. What branch?"

"I am no Cahill. My name is Fiske..." He cast about frantically for a name. On a wall of the alley, he saw an old sign for _blini_, a type of Russian pancake. Pancake! "Fiske Pancake." Since pancakes are typically American food, he hoped she wouldn't know what they were.

"You lie well... but you are definitely not a Lucian. I know all the Lucians around here. Speak up!"

Fiske thought hard. She would probably not attack a Lucian. "Why, are you a Lucian too?"

"Of course. I am Irina Nikolaievna. It will not hurt to tell you, since you will die by my hands anyway. Now tell me what branch you are, otherwise..." She flexed her fingers threateningly. "I can call for backup if I need to."

"I am a Lucian. One of Isabel Kabra's American agents. See? I wear the Cahill coat-of-arms and a red coat."

"Why are you in St. Petersburg?"

"Did you say you're Irina Nikolaievna? I believe you are the very agent I need to talk to."

"Isabel did not send word that an agent would come to see me..." Her voice still held a bit of doubt, but she seemed to believe him.

"It's urgent business. I would prefer not to talk about it here."

"Well, Fisk Pancake. I will take you to a place where we can talk without being overheard and be comfortable at the same time."

"Thank you, Irina."

They walked out of the alley, and she led him out of the residential area into the main street. Along the sidewalk, there were shops. Some way down, they came to a café-type building, with booths.

"This place is owned and operated by trustworthy Lucians. We will be able to talk here in private."

Fiske was not too eager to enter a place full of Lucians, but fleeing at this point was obviously not an option. So he followed her in. Irina made a subtle sign to the man behind the counter, and he nodded. Fiske and Irina made their way to an empty private booth and sat down. A waiter hovered near them. "You can order for me," Fiske said, not knowing what was available at this place. Irina nodded and said something to the waiter, who walked away.

"So tell me. Is your real name Fisk Pancake?"

"Yes." Fiske was surprised at how calm he was, despite the fact that one quaver of his voice could result in his mysterious death.

"What business have you come on?"

"Isabel sent me. Do you know of Grace Cahill?"

"Obviously. Who doesn't know of that old witch? What is she up to this time?"

Fiske drew a deep breath, steeling himself, mad as he was at hearing his beloved sister called a 'witch'. "She is in Russia."

"Is she? Not St. Petersburg by any chance?"

"No, no. Not yet. She is in Moscow, and will leave Russia in a few days." In truth, Grace and Fiske had just left Moscow yesterday and would leave St. Petersburg for Boston in two days.

Their drinks arrived. Fiske took a cautious sip of his and found it very good. Irina took a long swig of hers and asked, "Why not alert the Lucian agents in Moscow, then?"

"Isabel was sure you would want to take care of her yourself. Isabel thinks she can trust you, and she does not know of any dependable agents in Moscow."

"True. They are all a bunch of dimwits who go crying to their mommies at the thought of a Madrigal. True Lucians do not cry..." She trailed off as he raised an eyebrow at her. "Fisk, I beg of you, do not think any less of me because you found me crying."

"I assure you I will not... But why were you crying?"

"Something... When do I go to Moscow?" She'd evaded his question.

"Whenever you wish. However, I received reports from my contacts there that Grace is aware of the identities of all Lucians there, is extremely wary and plans to leave soon. I advise you to make haste."

"Alright. I will leave tonight, taking the 10:30 train. I thank you for informing me."

"Not at all. I am trying for a higher post rather than the messenger one I hold right now. It has been my pleasure to meet you, Irina."

"Mine as well, Fiske. I will see you when I return from Moscow, I hope?"

"Of that I do not know. I will be leaving for England soon. But if I am still here, we will definitely meet."

Fiske did not know exactly why he said that. They finished their drinks at the same time and stood up together. Irina pulled out her wallet, but Fiske stopped her. "I insist upon paying. How much?"

Irina told him. He handed in the cash at the counter and they left the café.

"Where are you staying, Fisk?" Irina asked. "I will see if I can forward some Lucian information Isabel may want to see."

"Alright. I will make sure it reaches her. I am at the Astoria Hotel, registered under the name George Hilliard."

Irina pulled a tiny notepad out of her purse and wrote it down. "Alright. I will be going now. I have much to do before my journey tonight. Goodbye, Fisk."

"Goodbye, Irina."

Fiske looked into those sharp, beautiful gray eyes one last time before both turned away.

To each other they'd never return

The next morning, he picked up the Lucian information at the front desk and handed it to Grace, who was full of questions. He told her he could not say, but it was all valid. They left Russia two days later. He would never return

During Grace's funeral, he'd seen Irina stand by the coffin expressionlessly. By then he knew she'd married, had a child, and then lost both husband and son. He watched as she accepted the challenge, becoming a potential enemy for Amy and Dan.

Finally, in Australia, he knew he could not stop Isabel from burning down the place Amy and Dan were in. As a last resort, he'd sent a letter to Irina, confessing his true identity, and appealing to her to save his niece and nephew. She'd read it and sacrificed herself carrying his wishes out.

Fiske drew his hand over his eyes. The world had lost a truly remarkable woman, and he his first love, on that fateful night. Later, after Amy, Dan, Alistair and Isabel had left the place, he'd rushed in and pulled Irina's charred body out. He'd held her head in his hands and kissed her forehead, begging her to come back and talk to him once more.

Now, he walked slowly out of the mansion, the apple juice forgotten. He headed behind the mansion, where some distance off was the graveyard. He knew where what was recovered of her body had been buried. He walked there quietly, his heart breaking all over again. He sat down by the grave.

_Irina Nikolaevna Spasky, _read her tombstone. Below it were her dates of birth and death, and then _Died a heroic death during the Clue Hunt._

A heroic death, all right. While saving his niece and nephew, on his own wishes. Suddenly, Fiske became aware of a strong hate for himself. He'd been a coward, not even showing himself and depending upon her for saving Amy and Dan... He'd always been a coward. He buried his face in his hands, just the way she'd been when he'd first seen her. In the end, he realized, he _had_ been her victim... not of her poison fingernails, but of her love.

Irina, who, he realized, had never actually told him what she'd been crying about.

Irina, who would never again be able to do so.

Irina, who would never return.

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**I'm pretty depressed. Who knew I liked Irina that much. :/ **

**Review! I'd love to hear what you think of this :)**

**~Sri**


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